Weary World Rejoices
by etraytin
Summary: A thousand chances, a thousand missed opportuntities, seven years of slow burn before it all went up in flames. What if Josh had seized one of those days and said what he really meant? (In-episode fix for Holy Night.)


Author's Note: And it's more Josh and Donna for you, my lovely readers! This is another Tumblr prompt, from Anonymous who asked " could you write an alternate version of the scene in Holy Night where Donna asks Josh what he meant by "It's not what it looks like" and he actually confesses his feelings instead of dodging the question?"

Hope you're all enjoying the ficspam, I am almost out of prompts so unless I get some more this madness will probably end soon. :D

(Disclaimer: This story contains dialogue taken verbatim from the West Wing episode Holy Night. No commercial use is being made of this work, and all rights remain with the original creator.)

…...

"I'll get you there first thing in the morning." Josh stared down at his list of NGOs, trying not to look Donna directly in the eye. Or at all, really. He'd given her merry hell over her silly Christmas sweater earlier in the day, but tonight, with the snow falling outside and most of the illumination in the bullpen provided by multicolored twinkle lights, she looked pretty amazing. Certainly too amazing for his peace of mind, judging by how he was shoving his foot in his mouth this evening.

Donna fiddled with her pen for a moment, obviously trying to come to a decision about something. Lifting her face to look at him, she asked, "What did you mean when you said it's not what it looks like?" There was expectation in her face, but expectation of what, he couldn't be sure.

"Jack's already down there?"

"Yeah."

Josh shifted his shoulders. "I'll call him and apologize."

Donna wasn't about to let him off the hook, especially not now that he'd made the mistake of meeting her eyes. "What did you mean?" she asked again.

"I met that I wasn't keeping you here on purpose." Josh raised his cup and took a drink. Ice cold, but it was something to do with his hands and body. He needed an escape strategy. Only...

"Why would I think you were doing that?" The expectation was back in Donna's face, and something that might almost have been hope. She was waiting for him to say something important, something they both knew but that couldn't be real until it was said. It was time for him to blow off the moment, make a joke, offer her a drink or some coffee or to buy her shoes to make up for the disappointment. She'd let it go, he knew. It was safer that way for both of them, better for their jobs, so much less distracting.

Except that Josh was going home (whenever he went home) to a townhouse that was always empty and held little more appeal than just crashing on a couch in the basement. Except that he'd personally arranged the opportunity for Toby to reconcile with his father tonight because life was too short and sometimes you didn't get enough chances with the people you loved. Except that when Donna looked at him that way, he wanted to give her everything, even if in this case it was only the truth.

"It was never about the guys," he blurted out.

"What?" she asked, her face crinkling with confusion.

"When I told you you shouldn't go out with those gomers," he tried to clarify. "It wasn't about anything wrong with them, even though they were total losers. It was about you."

Donna looked like she wasn't sure whether to be hopeful or offended, and was instead hovering in some nebulous in-between space. "What about me, Josh?"

"You are so much... so much more than anything they could possibly deserve," he told her, his voice pitched low for the bullpen but just loud enough to carry to her. "I didn't want any of them to have you. I don't deserve you either, I know that for sure, but at least when I'm here and you're here, you're mine for these hours, and it means everything." He raked a hand though his hair, certain he was screwing this up as much as he possibly could. "But I know how much you were looking forward to this trip. I don't want you to think I'm keeping you here on purpose because I don't want you to be happy, because I do. Want you to be happy. I don't want you to be happy with Jack, though. I want you to be happy with me." Still keeping his chin down, he looked up to see whether his words had any effect at all.

They did; she was crying. Shit. He raised his head, half extending his hands in a useless gesture of supplication. "Oh god, please don't cry. I shouldn't have said any of that, I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare take any of that back," she insisted, reaching out and grabbing hold of one of his hands. "Not if you really meant it."

"I meant it," he admitted. "And now you know why I'm never going to have Sam's job, but I meant all of it."

Donna seemed to consider this, cocking her head to one side. "So what are your plans for making me happy tonight?" she asked with a half-smile. He waggled his eyebrows, she gave him a quelling look.

"Well, CJ's staff is going to make little snowmen and put them on the seats in the press briefing room and take a picture," he offered, sure that his own smile was a little goofy. "We could get in on that action, then I'll find a place that's still delivering and we can hole up at my place and watch one of those girly Christmas movies you love."

She pretended to be uncertain, but he could see the smile she was hiding behind the shining fall of her hair. "I don't know... it's a fourteen thousand bottle wine cellar, Josh."

"I've got a six-pack of Sam Adams and whatever CJ and Toby didn't drink at my last party, and that's the best I can offer you." She was still holding his hand, so he ran his thumb in little circles over the back of her knuckles. "There might even be some wine."

"Well, I'm sold," she told him, and the tone in her voice and the look on her face said she was saying yes to more than a Christmas spent together. How much more, Josh wasn't sure. But he looked forward to finding out. "But first we've got to rewrite the budget and save Christmas in Jerusalem."

"No sweat," he told her with a confident grin. "You keep working here, and I'll go talk to the President. We'll be done before midnight."

"Bold words," she observed. "Go get 'em." She took two quick steps forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, short and sweet and brimming with promises. Josh felt a little dazed.

"Right then," he agreed, absolutely certain that whatever face he was making at the moment was incredibly goofy. "I'll be back. Don't go anywhere."

"I'll be here," she promised.


End file.
